


Corrupted Lungs

by 26stars



Series: If You're Still Breathing [You Are the Lucky Ones] [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Comfort, Could be OOC or could not since most of this happens behind closed doors, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Female Friendship, I don't really know how to tag sex scenes but you should know it's in chapter 4..., Missing Scene, Rating went up if you didn't notice..., References to pre-bahrain Melinda, Season/Series 02, references to divorce, season 02e06 canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobbi Morse and Melinda May go way back. May remembers Bobbi before Hunter. Morse remembers May before Bahrain.<br/>If they're going to be teammates now, they have a lot of catching up to do.<br/>Set after s02e05</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after s02e05 A Hen in the Wolfhouse

Coulson is standing by the window when May walks in, her tablet under her arm. “How does Simmons seem to you?” he asks casually, and May can’t believe that it was only five hours ago that he was sitting across the table from Raina, refusing to give her what she wanted at the expense of blowing Simmons’ HYDRA cover.

“Shaken, exhausted, overwhelmed, but still herself,” May responds as she closes the door behind her, joining him at the window and passing him the tablet. “I helped her get her things out of storage and back to her bunk.”

“I bet she’s going to miss that townhouse she had in the city,” Coulson says, taking the tablet from her and scanning the debriefing report. “Did you talk about the brainwashing?”

“Not yet-we probably should sit down with the two of them together for that discussion." May leans back against his desk and folds her arms, staring at his back as he reads. "What about Morse? I’m surprised you finished hers first.”

“Mostly, she’s glad to be done with that assignment. And she didn’t seem at all reserved about joining the team.”

May nods. “Good-we could use a few more years of experience to round out the Specialists.”

“Get her set up with a bunk, would you?” Coulson says, sending the report to the dropbox and returning the tablet to May.

“Course,” May says, moving towards the door. “I’m sure she’s as ready for a rest as Simmons is.”

“May?” Coulson’s tone is light, but it still makes her pause and turn to face him again. “I hope her being here won’t be a problem.”

His tone holds the slightest warning.

May shrugs. “If it is, it won’t be from my end. If anything, I’d be more worried about having her and Hunter under the same roof.”

Coulson raises an eyebrow. “What are they, Loud and Louder?”

May shakes her head. “You’re asking the wrong person,” she says. “Mack remembers that era, not me.”

Coulson nods, letting the matter drop. He looks back down and starts straightening the papers on his desk. “All right. Tell her to take a day or three to rest. We shouldn’t need her back in the field until something big moves, but knowing HYDRA, that may not be before too long. Take her a tablet too so she can get briefed on where we are with various threads.”

May nods. “Yes sir,” she says coolly, and moves out.

May finds Morse in the kitchen chatting with Mack, open beer bottles in their hands. She sees the woman’s HYDRA-red coat tossed carelessly on a nearby chair with an air of _good riddance_ about it, while he woman herself is leaning comfortably on the counter in her black tank and jeans. It seems like the last stiffness of her Head of Security persona has faded in the past few hours.

“Agent May!” Morse announces with a slight singsong in her voice as May walks in. May guesses that the bottle in her hand isn’t the first one she’s had since finishing her debrief. Probably not even the second.

_Can’t blame her._

“Feel good to be back?” she says by way of greeting, fishing her own bottle from the fridge and popping the cap as she joins them around the island.

“Anything would be an improvement on living inside HYDRA, but yes, it feels great.” Morse wraps an arm quickly around her shoulders and presses her lips briefly against May’s hair. “Long time, no nothing, huh?” she says with a grin, dropping her arm before May tries to squirm away.

“I forget every time how tall you are,” May responds with a smirk, elbowing her gently in the ribs. _And that you’re always the affectionate drunk._

“It’s all in the boots, believe me,” Morse says, unzipping them one at a time and stepping out of them, bring her three inches closer to May’s height. “But you know something about that, don’t you?” She touches her bottle to May’s with a clink. May smiles at her around the bottle as she takes a sip.

“Coulson asked me to make sure you were all set up with a bunk,” she says as Morse leans heavily on her elbows on the counter, seeming to not care to hide her weariness anymore.

“Hope it’s got a toothbrush-all I made it out with were those-” Morse points her bottle at her combat batons, which are resting on the counter, “and that damn hard drive.”

“And Agent Simmons,” May reminds her. “For which we thank you.” She smiles, trying to lighten her somber tone a bit, but Morse seems to catch the earnestness in her voice anyway.

“She’s obviously something special. Mack, you have to meet this girl-she’s absolutely precious,” she says with a smile, eyes darting to Mack, who shuffles a little uneasily beside her and takes a sip of his beer. “You should have seen her trying to lie to me in her interrogation-it was like one of those videos of guilty dogs-almost too cute for you to be mad.”

“Bobbi, you’re comparing a biochemist to a canine-I think you need to go to bed.” Mack is smiling as he holds out his hand for her bottle, which Morse pulls back with a smirk.

“I’ve earned this, Mack, give me my moment.” But she smiles and chugs the rest of her beer quickly, then lands the bottle expertly in the trashcan with one arching toss.

“Now you’re just showin’ off,” Mack says, passing a friendly hand over her back as he walks to the trashcan to throw May's bottle and his own away.

“Ok, Agent May, lead on,” Morse says as she fishes her boots from the ground and grabs her batons off the counter. The woman’s footsteps are steady as she follows the woman from the room. “Night, Mack!” she calls over her shoulder. “Burn that coat for me, would you?”

“You got it, Barbara,” he calls back.

May leads her to the barracks hall, walking in ahead of the woman and going straight to the lamp to flip it on. Like all the bunks, the room is spare, furnished only with bed, desk and nightstand between the bare brick walls.

“Oh, am I happy to see you…” Morse nearly moans, dropping her boots and batons carelessly on the ground, sinking down onto the bed and practically embracing the mattress.

"How many beers did you have, Bobbi?"

"Nowhere near enough," the woman groans, speaking down into the bedding.

“There are towels in the cupboard in the bathroom at the end of this hall, and there’s a shelf in there too with basic toiletries,” May says as she moves back around the bed to deposit the tablet on the desk.

Morse flips over onto her back. “Good, 'cause all my stuff’s still in my cover apartment,” she sighs and throws an arm dramatically over her eyes. “I don’t even have a change of clothes.”

“We can send out for everything tomorrow,” May assures her. “Until then, I’d offer you some of mine, but…”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” Laughter bubbles out of Morse’s chest, but she barely moves, seeming to only sink further into the mattress.

“Get some rest, Agent Morse,” May says, putting her hand on the knob and starting to turn it. “You’ve more than earned it.”

“Are you done for the night?” 

The question is quiet, and May looks back at Bobbi, still lying on her back, still hiding her eyes.

“More or less,” she says lightly.

There is a long beat of silence.

“Then don’t go.”

May exhales slowly through her nose, her hand still lingering on the knob. Bobbi doesn’t move, lets the ball stay in May’s court.

“You need to sleep, Bobbi,” she says gently.

“I need a lot of things.” Morse’s voice is softer.

The problem with field agents, May has always felt, is that each of them is trained to manipulate and recognize manipulation. Conversations between agents always seemed go through several unnecessary rounds of back-and-forth, each fully aware of the other’s motive and simply trying to wear down the other into showing their hand first.

 _Circle-jerking gets exhausting after a certain point, though_.

May can be the bigger man today.

She clicks the lock in the handle. Steps out of her shoes. Takes the three steps necessary to bring her to the foot of the bed and crawls onto it, stretching out on her stomach beside the other woman. Bobbi’s eyes open as she shifts her arm above her head on the pillow and she turns to look at May, her brow offering the question, the hand she stretches out between them offering the answer.

May covers it with her own, lacing their fingers together. Bobbi smiles tiredly and rolls onto her side as May shifts onto hers and they scoot into each other’s spaces, heads still resting on the pillows. Bobbi’s hand wraps around the curve of her hip, and May reaches up and brushes unnaturally dark hair out of the woman’s tired blue eyes.

“Welcome back,” she says softly.

Bobbi responds by leaning in and kissing her.

It’s gentle, verging on cautious, and May cradles the woman’s face, reassuringly drawing her closer and melting into the kiss. She lets her lips part, lets Bobbi in, let's her know that _yes, it's been awhile but this is still okay-better than okay_ -falling back into the natural rhythm like it hasn’t been years. Bobbi’s hand slides over her side and soft fingers trail gently down her back, and then her mouth breaks away to press a row of gentle kisses down May’s jaw towards her shoulder. They get slower, softer, as she goes, and May huffs out a small laugh.

“You’re exhausted, Bobbi," she chuckles, trailing her hand gently down her back.

“Damn straight,” she woman mutters, tugging aside the neck of May’s shirt and pressing a kiss into her collarbone.

“Please tell me that pun was intended.”

Bobbi rocks off her side and over to May, one knee landing on either side of her hips as she looms over her and smirks. “Always.”

She kisses her soundly down into the pillow, and May weaves her fingers through the woman’s hair, occasionally trailing her hands down the toned arms on either side of her head. One eventually leaves to land on May’s side, fingers slipping beneath the hem of May’s shirt-

“Bobbi-” she begins.

Bobbi leans up to look her in the eye, excitement a thin shroud in front of her snowballing fatigue.

“We don’t have to do anything,” she says quickly, withdrawing her hand, “I just don’t want you to leave.” She trails her fingertips lightly from May’s shoulder to her waist, fluttering over the curves between the two points.

May’s breath catches, but she holds herself still.

“I have to get up and drill with Skye in the morning,” she attempts.

Morse pushes herself up, sitting back on May’s thighs. “Of course you do, ” she shrugs. “So you get up before she does-aren’t you the one who knocks?”

“There are cameras in the hallway,” May tries again. 

_Circle-jerker._

“And who’s watching at 5 in the morning? Coulson? Doesn’t he already know?”

May raises an eyebrow. “Does _Hunter_ know?”

Bobbi rolls her eyes. “Fair enough, but does he seem like the kind of guy who voluntarily wakes up before noon?” She leans down and kisses May’s throat again.

“I wouldn’t know-honestly, I’ve avoided him as much as possible.”

The laughter against May’s neck feels like butterflies. “I’ll help you continue the trend.”

Bobbi shifts off May and lays back down alongside her, wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist and pressing them together chest to knee after May switches off the lamp.

“You’re _always_ the big spoon,” May mutters with mock annoyance, turning on her side and pressing back against the woman, hooking the duvet at the foot of the bed between her toes and pulling it up over them.

“For obvious reasons,” Bobbi reminds her from behind her ear, and May can hear her smile. “Plus, it’s the only way to keep you from running away in the morning without waking me.”

May lays her arm over Bobbi’s and laces their fingers together again. “I’ll slip out around five,” she whispers.

Bobbi hums into her hair, squeezing her gently with the arm around her waist. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Instead of responding, May raises their joined hands and softly kisses the skin of Bobbi’s knuckles, dragging her lips over the calloused skin. She feels the woman draw her closer, and May lets herself sink into the embrace, into the sensations she hasn’t felt in years, the feeling of a heartbeat pressed against her own ribs, the heavy warmth of another person holding her close, asking, hoping, wanting her to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a departure from my usual pairing...I honestly don't even know what happened. 
> 
> I was writing a post-season2-finale scene where May talks with Morse while she's recovering...and then I started thinking about how they probably knew each other in some capacity before Bahrain, and what that might have been like, and then there was speculation on what it's like to be friends with (not married to) the Mockingbird...and then I guess this happened.
> 
> Bobbi's character here is based entirely on the AoS characterization she's been given. There may be a few small references to comics background, but don't expect much.


	2. Chapter 2

She dreams of missions, which, after so many years on the field, are progressively harder and harder to distinguish between. They are really all the same in the end- _protect [the mark/the team/yourself], acquire [intel/the prisoner/trust], escape [notice/capture/injury]_. Generally, it’s just locations and faces that vary these days.

In her dreams though, they always end the same: with a gun in each of her hands pointed in two different directions, herself caught in the middle, the world rocking beneath her like the deck of a ship. One side orders her to shoot the other-it’s always friends. Always. And always the choice on her-which death can she live with?

Which life is most valuable?

“Morse.”

Every time, she has to choose. Every time she shoots, the ship tilts and they all fall.

“Bobbi.”

The swinging, falling feeling yanks her mind to consciousness like a safety line.

“Bobbi.” Lips brush her forehead, missing the flurried pulse beneath her skin. “I’m going now. I’ll come back if you’re not up when we’re done.” She feels the person beside her pulling away.

_May._

_SHIELD._

_Coulson’s SHIELD._

She forces her eyes open in time to catch May’s wrist and pull her back, dragging her into a sleepy kiss. The woman lets her, cradling Bobbi’s cheek and letting her thumb brush over her jaw.

“Don’t rush it-sleep as long as you need to,” the woman whispers as she pulls away. Bobbi feels the covers fall around her, trapping in the fading warmth.

She hears the door open and close, then she opens her eyes to gray and bricks and safety and breathes herself into today’s reality:

 _You’re an Agent of SHIELD. You’re loyal to Coulson. You’re here to be a part of his team. You_ were _a double agent-but you’re not anymore._

She lies still until it’s real, until her lies are organized. Then she drifts off again.

*

Her heart rate spikes at the sound of a gentle knock on the door.

Lifting her head from where it was buried in the pillows, she gets her bearings quickly before calling hoarsely, “Who is it?”

She surely is not ready to deal with Hunter if it’s him.

“It’s Agent May.”

_Always professional in public._

“Come on in,” she calls, reaching for the switch on the lamp. It’s a windowless room-it could be the middle of the day or the middle of the night and she wouldn’t know the difference.

She doesn’t make any effort to sit up or make herself presentable as the door opens and the woman slips in, closing the door softly behind her. Bobbi hears the lock click.

“How you feeling?” May asks as she sits down on the other half of the bed. She’s still dressed in her workout clothes, and there’s a mug of something hot in her hand.

“Submerged,” Bobbi answers honestly, extracting her arms from the blankets. “I’m in the Rip Van Winkle stage.”

She sniffs the air. Turns her head to look pointedly at May.

“You used to hate coffee.”

May smirks down at her and raises the mug like a toast. “I still hate coffee-this is for you when you have the strength to sit up.”

“What time is it?” Bobbi asks, glancing around for a clock.

“Early afternoon.”

“Ugh,” Bobbi groans, and elbows herself up, aware of a vague headache from too many beers and not enough water last night. She scoots back against the headboard beside May, pulling her knees towards her chest. As she carefully takes the mug of coffee, she lets her entire body sag against the woman, settling her head soundly on May’s shoulder. Beneath her ear, May huffs out a small laugh.

“You’re like a Great Dane that’s convinced it’s a lapdog,” May says, and she can hear a smile in her voice as the woman reaches around with an unencumbered arm to ruffle her hair.

“Now look who’s comparing people to dogs,” Bobbi edges, inhaling the scent of the coffee as she waits for it to cool. “Personally I see myself in those videos of lions that don’t know how big they are and tackle-hug their keepers.”

May almost snickers. “Morse, between the two of us, I’m pretty sure I’m the cougar.”

The hoarse laugh breaks out of Bobbi’s chest before she feels it loading, and she can’t help turning her head to press a kiss against May’s jaw. The woman wraps an arm around her and rubs her palm gently down her shoulder. “Take it easy with the hot coffee,” she warns, but Bobbi can hear the smile in her voice.

 _This_. She’s missed _this_.

“Tell me about your little duckies while I wake up,” she asks quietly, sinking further into May’s embrace and taking a sip of the coffee.

“My _agents_?”

“May, if you don’t see the way they would follow you off a cliff, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’d poke you if you didn’t have a cup of scalding liquid in your hands,” May warns, and Bobbi just nuzzles her cheek into the woman’s shoulder.

“Start with Simmons,” she requests. “Let me see if my assessment was right.”

She feels May shrug. “You’ve read her file, you’ve met her-what else do you want to know?”

“What’s up with her and the cocker-spaniel scientist?”

Beneath her, May sighs. “Everyone used to refer to them as Fitzsimmons because they were inseparable, totally in sync, always on the same page…it was a science dream team, and it was amazing to watch. Sometimes they would get going on something and it would seem like they were one mind in two bodies. But that began and ended with science. He was in love with her, and I think it was obvious to everyone _but_ her.”

“Was?”

May pauses, and Morse hears the repressed venom as she mentions a name she’d rather never say again. “Remember how Grant Ward dropped them out of a plane? Their pod ended up in the bottom of the ocean. Any normal pair wouldn’t have made it out alive. But according to Simmons, Fitz came up with the solution and then didn’t give her a choice about who got the last breath of oxygen before they blew open the window. He was without oxygen for several minutes—it’s really a miracle that he’s alive. It was horrible.”

And Bobbi knows she doesn’t just mean for Simmons.

“And now?”

“Now, I don’t know. I doubt his feelings have changed. But he’s different, and that’s been hard for everyone—especially for her. She could see that her being here just made him worse. So she volunteered to go undercover in HYDRA.”

Bobbi sighs. “That bad, huh?”

“She did all right though, didn’t she? I think the break from the team was good. I really can’t blame her at all.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Bobbi says quietly, not moving from her position on May’s shoulder. She lets her tone do all the work. “Don’t ever think that she did that mission for personal benefit. What she did, she did for you all. And she’s going to have a hell of a time coming back from that.”

She lets the silence that follows drive her point home. She feels May shift the arm around her back until May’s fingers trail through the ends of her hair, counting the cost that she can see.

“I don’t take what you’ve done for granted,” May says quietly. “And I'm sorry if what I said made you think that I do. I can’t imagine what it was like to be on that side of enemy lines and have to be good at doing the work you’ve spent your life fighting. Not many people could even stomach that job. And I’m sure no one can do it as well as you did.”

Bobbi closes her eyes and lets herself remember HYRDA meetings that she had to sit through, mentally filing all useful information to report later and actively _not_ remembering how much she hated this organization, how much they had taken away from her…

She thinks of her daily balancing act of walking the fine line where she was helpful enough to keep their trust but not helpful enough to add to her true agency’s danger…

She thinks of how awfully her stomach would heave every day when she got home from work during those first few weeks, how many drinks it would take just to calm her shaking hands…

She thinks of intel she sacrificed to gain HYDRA’s trust-most of it innocuous, but not all of it…

She remembers hearing that Agent 33 was captured and seeing her weeks later _happy to comply_ with Whitehall’s requests…

She remembers being scared, most of all, by seeing just how _good_  at playing evil she really was…

May brings her back when she resumes rubbing her arm gently. “Was that your longest undercover op yet?”

Bobbi opens her eyes and stares down into her empty mug. “By three weeks.”

“How did it compare?”

Bobbi presses her hands into the ceramic, trying to catch the fading warmth. “Contact with Coulson was obviously minimal. And there was no one to talk to at the end of the day. I kind of wish Simmons could have known-just so neither of us would have felt so alone in there.”

“Anything happen that’s going to haunt you?”

A dozen awful moments parade before her eyes.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

_We all have our private hells that we have a right to keep secret._

And May gets that.

Bobbi knew she would.

Bobbi sits up a little so that she can face her for the apology. “Sorry, Mel, didn’t mean to put a cloud over the morning right off the bat…”

But May doesn’t seem upset. “If you can’t be honest here, where could you be?”

Bobbi looks at the woman, sees the tenderness, the trust, and she feels the coldness thicken, the guilt in her chest condensing into an even heavier knot.

_Nowhere, May. Not anymore._

She pushes them past it, shifting into a cross-legged position on the mattress. “Tell me about the girl you got up to train this morning. Skye?”

“Nah, how about we trade? Tell me something from the last few months. Or years-we really have plenty to catch up on.” Bobbi’s stomach growls loudly then, and May actually smiles. “Or maybe we can move this to the kitchen?”

“Great idea,” Bobbi says, and May takes the mug from her as they both stand.

“Let’s take the tablet.” She can hear May moving towards the desk behind her. “You still need to get some clothes ordered.”

“Sounds good,” Bobbi says as she stretches her arms above her head and pulls the muscles in her back straight. “Can’t wait to have something to put on besides HYDRA black.”

There’s a pause, and she knows what’s coming when May says, “We should probably talk about…”

“Ground rules?” Bobbi turns to face her, letting her arms fall to the sides. “Did you have anything in mind different than what we’ve always done?”

May shakes her head. “No, as long as it’s still fine with you.”

Bobbi smirks and ticks the items off on her fingers. “Never on missions, only behind locked doors, no PDA, and no telling someone without the other’s agreement? That’s it, right? If ain’t broke…” 

May smirks and leans back against the closed door. “For the record- Mack?”

“He knows," Bobbi says with an almost-smile as she pushes her hair back and works it into a ponytail. "That poor man has heard my entire relationship history, and probably Hunter’s too.”

“And Hunter?”

Bobbi shakes her head. “I never told him. He wouldn’t have been mature about it. Not like Coulson.”

May rolls her eyes. “Well, you _say_ that…”

“We were going to the kitchen.”

“Right.”

Bobbi crosses toward the door, smoothing out her wrinkled shirt.

“I’ll ask around while you shower and see if we can come up with some things for you to wear until some new clothes arrive," May says, passing her the tablet.

“You don’t like me in black?” Bobbi quirks an eyebrow at her. Then she notices what May's wearing. “Oh, that’s right-around here, it’s _your_ color.”

Before she reaches for the doorknob, May catches her with an arm around her waist and pulls her into an embrace. Bobbi happily complies, coiling her arms around the woman's shoulders and pressing their bodies together. She's always loved the way May fits perfectly beneath her chin.

“Remember when there was a time when you got confused by my hugs?” She chuckles down into May’s hair.

May doesn’t reply to that, just speaks softly into the space just north of Bobbi’s heart.

“I’ve missed you.”

Bobbi hugs her tighter and lets herself cling to the warmth, hoping it can do something about the cold shame leeching through her body.

_She doesn’t miss me—she misses having someone around from whom she can’t hide._

It’s the best and worst part of being a woman they call the Mockingbird—seeing people at their most vulnerable and knowing they aren’t getting the same from you. Right here, May isn’t Deputy Director of SHIELD. She isn’t the S.O., the teacher, the team leader, or the veteran.

Right here—like this—May’s just herself.

And she has no idea how dangerous that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobbi's character definitely seems to be the most openly affectionate of all the main cast, which was so refreshing to write-and so fun to imagine interacting with May.
> 
> I don't have a definite plan on how long this will go-I want to take it through the rest of season 2, but we'll have an new season soon and I'll probably get distracted...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole series started because I was thinking about May and Morse having conversations like this. With the sheer quantity of characters on this show, it's impressive that we get as many one-on-one scenes as we do. But, just like all of Simmons' deleted scenes, it seems to be the little scenes of relationship development that end up on the cutting room floor.

“Question—when you were married, did Andrew do all the cooking? Because I don’t know many men who could tolerate this diet forever.”

They are standing together at the stove in the community kitchen, and Bobbi is poking at a grilled cheese in a skillet while May stirs a pot beside her. After fielding the usual rounds of introductions to the new faces in the kitchen, Morse had dug through the cabinets, looking for the fastest meal that wasn’t eaten straight from a package. Surprisingly, she put May to work at the stove, despite her protests. She did, however, agree to letting May work on only the simplest task—warming a few cans of soup in a saucepan.

 “He did a lot of it,” May answers, “but there was a lot of take-out eaten during our marriage. It wasn’t that I didn’t try…I just never had time to working on getting better. I was either gone on a mission, or back and exhausted…and life’s too short to eat burned food. Fortunately, he hadn’t gone into our marriage expecting home-cooked meals—we’d only been dating a month before I ruined the first dinner I tried to make us.”

“What happened?”

“I set a pot of noodles on fire.”

“You—what?” And then Morse is laughing, the big, loud, beautiful laugh that makes May smile even if it’s at her own expense. “Jesus, how did you manage to _break physics_ and set water on fire?”

May cringes as she answers, “I didn’t know you had to put water in it.”

“Oh my god…” Bobbi’s head falls back with a grin, then she turns it on May. “Someday, I’ll go through it with you—every self-respecting American should at least be able to make spaghetti.”

“Right. Nothing more American than a dish from Italy.”

“Nothing in America’s original except SHIELD.”

“Well, you’ve certainly changed your tune,” an unmistakably peeved British voice carries from the door.

From the corner of her eye, May sees Bobbi’s teeth set, but then the mask falls in place and she turns to face Hunter.

“You must be hungry. That always did make you crankier. Grilled cheese?” she offers, pointing to the pan with the spatula.

Hunter looks a little disarmed for about half a second, but then he strides into the room, going to the fridge and withdrawing a can of soda. _No, I was definitely not here for food, thank you very much,_ his body language announces.

“Careful with whatever she feeds you, May,” the Brit says, cracking open the can as he moves back towards the hall, “she knows how to make anything appetizing enough for someone to swallow. Including poison.”

Surprised by the metaphor packaging the insult, May doesn’t have the presence of mind to prepare a comeback before the man is out the door again. Bobbi doesn’t watch him go, just stares down at the stove, and May wonders which memories are marching through her mind. She looks back down at her own task, guesses the soup is now hot enough, and turns off the burner.

“Is it going to be okay?” she asks quietly, brushing her elbow gently against Bobbi’s side as she turns from the stove to pull down some dishes, handing a plate to Bobbi. “Being here with Hunter?”

Bobbi snorts, tipping the sandwich onto the plate and dropping two more slices of buttered bread onto the pan. “It’ll be fine. He just needs to get used to the idea. I mean, you work with Coulson, so…”

“Not even close to the same thing,” May says pointedly, feeling Morse’s gaze turn on her as she tips the soup from the saucepan into a bowl.

“So you guys never…?”

“No.”

And May knows that Bobbi’s analyzing everything wrapped up in that concise reply, every inflection and every gesture, testing it for truth.

“Did you ever wish things were different?” Bobbi’s voice is soft as she turns back to the stove, twirling the spatula around her hand like it’s a combat baton.

May sighs, knowing Bobbi will analyze that too, and chooses to skip straight to honesty.

“There may have been a time that I did. But now, I mostly just wish we were people who told each other the truth.” She glances up at the security camera in the corner, wondering if anyone’s listening.

Bobbi looks at her steadily until May meets her eyes again. Wordlessly, the woman holds out her free hand, and May considers stepping beneath her arm like she once used to, letting the embrace wrap around her like a security blanket and press in warmth and reassurance. But the Melinda May who used to give and receive affection well…she isn’t in this kitchen now. As far as the rest of this team is concerned, she doesn’t exist. It would be confusing if anyone saw.

And in the split-second hesitation, May sees Morse process this and drop her arm, turning back to the stove and letting the moment pass.

“Can I ask you something?” May finally says, breaking the silence and moving them on.

“Always,” Bobbi says, adding the sandwiches to the plate and turning off the stove.

“You and Hunter…honestly, how did you guys ever—“ May doesn’t even know how to phrase the question, so she doesn’t mind when Bobbi cuts her off.

“I still don’t know. Really, if I understood it, I’d be happy to tell you, but I have no idea how to explain it. Even during the good times, we were always disagreeing,” she says picking up the plate and carrying it to the island, where she sits down on a barstool. May picks up the bowl of soup and follows her, grabbing two spoons from the drawer.

“But you married him,” May says as she sits down on the stool beside her, and her voice sounds perplexed even to her own ears.

“And you married Andrew,” Bobbi replies quietly, meeting her eyes as she tears a sandwich in half and holds a triangle out to May like a peace offering. May takes it but doesn’t eat it.

“You know that’s not the same thing. You remember. I was…I was a different person back then. And then I wasn’t that person anymore. You, though…”

_What happened to you?_

Bobbi looks down, staring at the space between them as she dips the sandwich in the soup. “I think you can guess, Mel,” she says softly.

Bobbi eats in silence for a moment, letting May work it out. May thinks of a conversation with a twenty-year-old Cadet in the galley of a plane out of China, thinks of the warnings and the reassurances she had tried to communicate before it was too late.

“You lost track of what was real?” The thought makes May’s heart twist in a strange way.

Bobbi props her chin on one hand and sighs, still avoiding her gaze. Her voice is still soft, almost sad, when she finally replies.

“Among other things. He was a mark when I met him, and I played a part he would have liked. I did it well—I always do. And then I kept it going too long because I was selfish. I should never have married him, but that’s on me, not him.”

“Did you love him?” May asks, trying not to sound skeptical.

Morse’s lips twitch like a smile strangled in its cradle. “I thought I did. But remember…”

_I lost track of what was real._

May can’t help reaching over and resting a hand on Bobbi’s knee. They’re hidden behind the counter now, so the gesture doesn’t feel quite as dangerous. Bobbi glances gratefully at her, reaching down with her other hand to squeeze May’s gently. They hold the position in silence for a long moment before Morse shifts, withdrawing her hand and pushing a spoon towards May with the other.

“I guess that’s just what love does,” she says with forced lightness, picking up her second sandwich. “Makes us do stupid, stupid things.”

May thinks of the last person she shared a bed with, and the ever-present self-loathing rises in her chest again. “Makes you blind,” she says.

_It wasn’t love, but it was blindness anyway._

If she notices the emotion, Bobbi doesn’t fixate on it, just shakes her head. “Not _blind_ , necessarily…just…nearsighted, I guess. You see the pits and potholes in the road ahead, but you’re not there yet, and for now it’s smooth sailing, so why not keep going?”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It is.”

There is a heaviness in those words, but May doesn’t know what to say, so she picks up her spoon and helps herself to the soup, and when Morse offers her another piece of the grilled cheese, she takes it with only a passing thought of Hunter’s warning.

Bobbi is on her third sandwich when May senses they are being watched. Looking around, she makes eye contact with her student standing by the door.

“Don’t be shy, Skye, come on in,” she calls to her, and Morse looks too.

“I promise I’m not as terrifying as I look,” Bobbi says, throwing a smile to Skye like a goodwill frisbee.

“That’s not what Simmons told me,” Skye says as she steps out from behind the door and moves fully into the kitchen, “or Hunter.”

“Always check your sources,” Bobbi says with a smirk, pushing the nearest bar stool out with her toe. “Come here, sit down, and let me confirm or deny.”

“I’m sure Skye’s already read your file,” May says as she gets up to put the dishes in the sink, and Skye looks away guiltily.

“Who wouldn’t? It reads like a Koontz novel.” Bobbi flashes her the same grin that won her over all those years ago, and it seems to have the same effect on Skye, who visibly relaxes and sits down beside her. Bobbi pulls the open bag of chips from the counter and sets them on Skye’s lap. “So come on, sister, hit me with the rumors and I’ll tell you what’s true.”

May leans against the counter and keeps her smile to herself, watching the spectacle. This is Bobbi in her element—singing the right song to put the other person at ease.

It’s almost funny to watch the way the process works on Skye. Within three minutes, Bobbi has her chattering wildly about herself, their team, and all the stupid stories Hunter has told about his crazy ex. May wonders if even Skye realizes how much she’s talking. But as strange as it is, it’s nice to see the girl revert back to her old self—the hacker who loves a good story and loves super-spies even more.

Bobbi trades her own stories with Skye, the warmth of her smile just enough to keep Skye going but not stagnant enough to seem fake. She’s being exactly what Skye needs right now—a girl with enough common experience and interests to make her seem like an ally, a woman polished enough that Skye wants to impress her by putting her most mature foot forward, a friend more relaxed than Simmons and more forthcoming than May herself.

The Mockingbird plays her part like she was born to fill it.

_She always does._

She’s watched Bobbi do this enough times to appreciate the skill it takes to wear so many faces at once. Bobbi’s even explained it to her—the art is simpler than most people think.

 _Making friends is usually easiest when you act like you already are,_ Bobbi told her once. _Everyone has their quirks—things that make them feel safe and comfortable. And it’s only when you make them feel like there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain from talking to you that they’re willing to tell you anything you want to know. People are all pretty similar in the end. Some want power, some want love, some want sex, some want respect…but I haven’t met a person yet who doesn’t love feeling understood_.

It should be scary to watch her do this. It should be unnerving. And, though she hates to admit it, May _gets_ why Hunter is still carrying a chip on his shoulder. It would be horrible to trust someone so much, to _love_ someone so much, and always suspect that they were wearing another mask for you, that you were still layers away from the real person underneath all the deceptions.

But May knows a little something about hiding behind masks. About lying even to those you love in order to protect them from painful truths _._

She doesn’t need anyone calling her bluff.

She can be gracious enough to not call Bobbi on hers


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did originally plan to write another chapter of Part 2 in this series before i published this one, just to give it pretext, but I didn't think you guys were going to mind.

An hour later, as Bobbi steps out of the community bathroom in just a towel, her wet hair soaked and scraggly but undeniably blonde again, she sees May just rounding the opposite corner, headed for Bobbi’s door.

“Got your natural color back?” May asks, taking in everything above Bobbi’s shoulders and not looking anywhere else.

“One thing at a time,” Bobbi says, opening the door and beckoning May through it with a jerk of her head and a teasing smile. There’s a pile of clothes in May’s arms. “Whatcha got there?”

May plays the smile right back as she steps into the room. “I asked around, and we’ve got a few things that might fit you until your order gets in.”

“You know, I think most women would love the idea of having to replace their whole damn wardrobe multiple times a year,” Bobbi says, shutting the door behind them and clicking the lock, “but anyone who’s done it knows that it’s just a giant pain in the ass.”

“Truth,” May says, starting to lay out the garments on the bed as Bobbi stands beside her, still gripping her towel. “Trip donated a couple of t-shirts, and Skye had a pair of workout pants that are probably still too short but might work for now. There’s a scientist who’s about as tall as you who donated these jeans, and Mack asked if you would prefer a pair of his coveralls or some of his undershirts.” May flashes a grin at her, and Bobbi laughs a little.

“Gross. Almost as gross as putting on yesterday’s underwear after a shower,” Bobbi says, tossing her dirty clothes on the bed and extracting her bra and panties.

“No one says you have to wear underwear,” May reminds her as Bobbi leans forward and plucks a t-shirt from the pile.

“Hold on a minute, I remember this one,” she says, holding the blue tee pointedly out at May. “You can’t even try to convince me that Trip wears a V-neck this low—this is yours, isn’t it?”

May just shrugs. “It’s gotten stretched out in quite a few dryers since you saw it last. It might fit you now.”

Affection curls in Bobbi’s chest, surprisingly uncomfortable. “Mel, you love this shirt,” she tries to protest.

The woman just smiles. A real smile. “I’d love it just as much on you.”

And somehow the smile on May’s lips, the brightness in her eyes, and the tenderness in her voice all send joy and pain out from Bobbi’s heart together, filling her to her fingertips with both warmth and cold. She purses her lips against the touched smile that breaks across her own face, reaching out and cradling May’s cheek tenderly as competing thoughts pile up on her tongue.

_Tell her the truth._

_I can’t._

_Then back off._

_I don’t want to._

_You’re going to betray her._

_Not her—her team. And that doesn’t make this any less true._

_Selfish. This is nothing but selfish, Bobbi._

_I know._

Bobbi leans down and kisses her lips.

This time, May responds immediately, hands moving up to grip the back of Bobbi’s neck and hold her at the necessary height as May’s tongue sweeps into her mouth and Bobbi meets her, the sensation wonderfully disorienting. She drops the t-shirt back on the pile and moves her other hand to May's side, wrapping an arm around her and deepening the kiss. As good as it feels though, this angle can’t last long. After only a few seconds, she pulls back and straightens up.

“I don’t think you and I will _ever_ work standing up,” she says, wrapping her arms around May’s shoulders and rubbing her chin playfully over the top of the woman’s head.

May’s hands grip her waist through the towel. “Guess you’d better sit down, then.” The vibrations of May’s throat are pressed against Bobbi’s chest, a feeling that sends more vibrations elsewhere in her body.

Bobbi lets May walk her backwards until the backs of her knees bump the bed, and she sinks down onto it, pulling May with her. This position works a hell of a lot better, especially when May straddles her lap and brings her urgently into another kiss. Bobbi kisses her back just as hard.

_It’s about time._

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” she says hoarsely when May breaks away to kiss down her throat, down her bare chest, one hand cupping a breast as her tongue drags over the other— _Hey, when did I drop the towel?_

May hums against her flesh and Bobbi reaches down to pull the woman’s t-shirt up by its hem, dragging it over May’s head so she has to cooperate and raise her arms. Once the garment is tossed aside, May seizes her chance to catch Bobbi’s wrists and tip her backward, stopping her from reaching for anything else.

“Let me?” she asks, eyes darting over Bobbi’s face. “You've been undercover for months. I want to just…take care of you.”

Heart swelling with that painful affection again, Bobbi presses back against May’s grip, which weakens to let her reach up and pull May down by the back of her neck into another kiss, slower but somehow better than the last. When they separate, she keeps May’s face close to hers, staring into her dark eyes.

“You always have,” _done much more than I deserve._ “Do whatever you want.”

May smiles and smooths Bobbi’s wet hair out of her face, then ducks her head to press her lips to Bobbi’s neck again, one hand falling to cup one of her breasts until her lips go down to join it. Bobbi moans and leans up into the touch, and May lavishes attention on the other side too before continuing lower down her body. She feels the woman’s fingertips slide over different parts of her—tracing the border of her ribs, the valley between her breasts, the curve of her waist—her touches followed quickly by presses of lips and traces of tongue. Bobbi lets herself melt into the mattress under May’s administrations, arching into a caress here, sighing in response to one there, wondering how May still remembers how much she likes _that right there._ She and May have done this fast and frantic before, have done this silently and covertly before and still done it _damn well_ , but Bobbi will always prefer this—the languid, reverent movement of May’s body against hers, as if the other woman has all the time in the world and is happy to spend every moment of it taking care of her.

Relaxed as she is after a few minutes of May’s focused attention on her body, her leg still jerks involuntarily as May’s fingertips trace over the seam of thigh and stomach while her lips curl into a smile against Bobbi’s side.

“Still ticklish there?” the woman asks, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looks up at Bobbi’s face.

“Try it again if you want to find out how fast I can still pin you,” Bobbi challenges, lifting her head to attempt to glare down at May, though this angle makes it nearly impossible and surely unflattering.

May smirks in response, and Bobbi thinks she just might be about to take her challenge when the woman suddenly slides swiftly down her body and sinks to her knees beside the bed between Bobbi’s feet. With a surprising amount of strength, she slips her hands beneath Bobbi’s thighs and tugs her forward until her ass is more or less at the edge of the mattress, her legs parting around May, opening everything up to her.

_Well, all right then._

May smooths her hands down the inside of Bobbi’s thighs, moving slowly towards their destination.  “I think I’d rather find out if I can still do this,” she says in a voice that nearly makes Bobbi shiver.

Bobbi lets her head fall back and almost laughs. “I feel like there’s a joke somewhere in there about riding a bicycle-”

“Don’t be too loud,” May cautions, and then her mouth is on her and Bobbi can’t form another coherent thought.

She buries her face in the darkness of her own folded arms and doesn’t fight it at all-lets herself get swept along on the rush of pleasure, the sensations that pull her, startle her, yank her away from all circumstances and situations except the one right here: what’s happening in her own body. She forgets about missions and agendas and who wants what from her—right now, it’s only about what _she_ wants. _That_ and _There_ and _Oh God, I forgot how good she is at_ that _…_

It doesn’t take long—she’s been ready for this since last night.

“Mel, I’m—“

May’s mouth leaves her for the briefest second. “Come on then,” she encourages quietly.

Her lips return to right where they were and Bobbi lets herself fall, giving herself to the sensations, pulling away from any control she had left. She muffles her sounds in the crook of her arm, gasping for breath as the feeling crashes over her and then slowly, slowly recedes.

She is vaguely aware of the woman kissing inside her thighs, gentle bites accenting the soft monologue of lips, and then May is rising onto her knees again, covering space below her navel with the same attention as her hands slide slowly up and down the length of Bobbi's legs.

“You don’t forget anything, do you?” Bobbi says between heaving breaths, propping herself on her elbows as May levers off the floor, returning to her position straddling Bobbi’s hips.

“I try not to,” May answers, smoothing her hands down Bobbi’s chest until she’s cupping both breasts, running her thumbs gently over the sensitive nipples.

“Your turn,” Bobbi says, reaching for May’s waistband. But then May falling over her, lifting Bobbi with an arm beneath her ribs and moving her further back on the mattress. Bobbi moves as she leads and then reaches for May’s clothes once more, only to have her wrists caught and pinned to the mattress again. May looms over her, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”

The next kiss is _not_ gentle, and Bobbi loves it. She arches off the bed as May arches into her, the friction of May’s clothes against her own damp skin a strange but not unpleasant sensation. Between them, May’s hands return to her breasts and knead them firmly, and Bobbi seizes her chance to slip her hands down the back of May’s pants, gripping and massaging the softness there while dragging the woman closer until she grinds against her stomach. Then May’s mouth breaks off her hers, mouth falling to nip gently against Bobbi’s neck.

“You…naked… _please_ ,” Bobbi stutters out, knowing the way May wants to hear it. Sure enough, it’s the magic word. May’s sports bra and pants disappear before Bobbi realizes she’s moving, but May is also moving out of reach, shifting between Bobbi’s thighs again, her hand sliding determinedly from Bobbi’s chest to her center.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else right now,” May says in a shaky whisper, and Morse feels one of her fingers dip inside her, then back out, dragging the wetness over Bobbi’s clit. “Let me do this for you.”

And then there’s two fingers filling her, and Bobbi’s head is falling back, then there’s three and her hands are fisting in the pillow behind her head, her legs are curling, feet planting against the bed so that she can grind down against May’s hand as the woman thrusts her hand up, dragging her thumb over Bobbi’s clit again and again.

“ _Oh God_ ,” Bobbi moans, trying to match May’s rhythm but finding it harder and harder to do _anything_ as May curls her fingers inside and presses _Oh God yeah right there…_

She feels the ends of May’s hair brush over her chest, and that’s the only warning she gets before a tongue drags over her breast and lips fasten on her nipple…

“Oh Jesus, Mel!” Bobbi gasps, her back bowing, but she lifts her head anyway and meets May’s eyes as the woman lifts her head for just a moment, a proud smile on her lips…

And then May’s hand thrusts against her, inside of her, a final push that sends Bobbi tumbling over the edge once again.

Bobbi remembers at the last second to strangle the moan in her throat, but she barely hears the pitiful sound she makes as the rest of her senses take a break and leave her with only the one. She feels May rubbing her clit methodically, extending the moment, and then gently bringing her back to the reality around her.

“You…” Bobbi attempts as she feels May withdraw her hand and move back up over her. “I swear to God, someday I’m going to find something that I can do better than you…” She is vaguely aware of May wiping off her hand- _Oh,_ there’s _the towel_ —then feels the rough fabric wipe gently down her inner thighs.

“It’s good to have high ideals,” May says as she tosses it aside and settles on Bobbi’s chest, folding her arms across her ribs below her breasts. Bobbi’s chest is still heaving, and she can no longer tell if the dampness on her skin is from her shower or from the pleasure of the past few minutes.

“This almost defeats the purpose of taking a shower,” she says, smoothing her hands down May’s shoulders, combing gently through the ends of her hair. May smirks up at her.

“Well, I didn’t want you to have to dress twice,” the woman says, and leans up to kiss the curve of her breast again.

“ _Now_ are you gonna let me?” Bobbi finally asks again, sitting up on her elbows to look down at May.

“You got any energy left in you?” May teases, eyes sparkling.

“Is that a challenge?” Bobbi grins. "Because I slept fourteen hours last night. I'm ready for anything."

“Prove it.”

Bobbi moves suddenly, catching May’s wrists in her own hold and rolling her easily to the side until the woman is pinned beneath her hips. Bobbi’s heart is still racing from her own climax, but she feels it pick up further as she looks down at May, bright-eyed and beautiful beneath her. Now she looks, really looks, at all that she couldn’t see last night—the knife-wound scar in May’s left shoulder, the bullet scar in her right bicep, a few fading burns across her collarbone from what looks like electric-shock torture…

_What has this team been doing?_

“You’ve got stories to tell me,” Bobbi says quietly, smoothing her hands gently over the scars, following each touch with a gentle kiss.

May’s hand brushes her cheek, and Bobbi looks up as May’s eyes rake over her face, her fingertips moving to trace the single, curving scar that peeks out from below Bobbi’s hairline, a memento of the day SHIELD fell.

_How did she notice..._

“So do you,” the woman says, and the warmth and cold surge through Bobbi’s system together again.

But then she covers her mouth with a kiss, and Bobbi is just fine with letting those stories wait until later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing a scene like this. Feel free to leave any constructive criticism.
> 
> Anyone know which t-shirt they were talking about? ;)
> 
> On a more serious note, I've seen some fic and some meta refer to May and Ward's relationship as DubCon (which, can we just get that word out of our collective vocabulary? Sex is either consensual or it's rape. There's no in-between), which I'm guessing is because Ward had ulterior reasons for getting close to May, even if she was 100% on board with the relationship that they had. It was definitely a form of "taking advantage of someone", even if it wasn't rape. BUT, do you guys think of it as something you'd call rape?
> 
> I realize this relationship that I've written here does have some similarities. There's deception involved, to be sure, but the Morse I'm writing has a different history with May, doesn't really have any agenda in getting intimate with her, and obviously has a guilty conscience that she's choosing to ignore...but I kind of want to know what you guys think. Do we call it rape when one party's not being completely forthcoming with the other? We know there's plenty of times that that happens between couples in all kinds of circumstances. I don't want to be insensitive to the situation, but I think I still need to understand it better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set overlapping s02e06 [I can't believe that was already more than a year ago...] A Fractured House
> 
> Rewatching, it seemed like the writers meant for a few days to have passed since Jemma's extraction, but I didn't think that it was likely for Bobbi's HYDRA cover to still be intact for more than 24 hours, or for her and Hunter to have avoided each other for so long. So I shrank it down to one night and half a day.
> 
> I liked the challenge of seeing that ep again in light of the behind-the-scenes I wrote. I wasn't expecting it to turn out as sad as it did.

The stories, as it turns out, aren’t the only thing that might have to wait until later.

May is still on her back beneath Bobbi, the two of them pressed together chest to knee, and Bobbi’s hands are buried in May’s hair as her tongue drags over her throat when they both hear the unmistakable emergency alarm from both the tablet on the desk and May’s phone, somewhere on the floor amongst the clothes.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me…” May exhales softly, closing her eyes and letting her arms fall against the mattress, defeated.

“That had better not be what I think it is,” Morse says, lifting her head and looking toward the tablet on the desk as the alarm continues.

“If the alert's going out to everyone, then it can only be _really_ bad news,” May says without opening her eyes.

“ _Shit_ ,” Bobbi mutters, dropping her face back into the curve of May’s neck.

“I’ve got to report to the Director,” May says, attempting to sit up, but Bobbi makes no move to get off her, letting her dead weight settle fully on top of May’s body.

“Does Coulson still wait for you? Because I’m not letting you leave this room wound up about two things at once,” she warns, raising her head and leveling her with a warning glare.

“I’ve been wound up for the last year and a half,” May reminds her, but can’t quite make herself push the younger woman away.

“And I can do a small thing to help with that, so…” Bobbi slides down May’s body, dragging her hands over the all the skin she can reach between May’s shoulders and knees, until she is kneeling between May’s spread thighs.

 _You could make a break for it,_ May thinks to herself. _She’d let you go. She'd understand._

_Or…_

 “You’ve got two minutes,” she says, propping herself up on her elbows and staring seriously at Bobbi, who just smirks as she smooths her hands down the inside of May’s thighs as she leans forward.

“I only need one.”

She buries herself in May’s body, lips and fingers and tongue pressing into all the right places. May lets her head fall back and tries to forget about what’s going on outside this room, and Morse makes that an easy task.

Barely a minute later, May’s coming with her hands fisted in the sheets and Bobbi’s name on her lips. Bobbi’s hands keep working, nails digging softly into May’s thigh while the fingers on her other hand bring May gently through it. May forces herself to pull in a full breath again, trying to bring her heart rate down so that her face won’t be too flushed when she leaves the room.

_Glad I didn’t go yet._

“Been awhile?” the younger woman asks, lifting her head and resting her cheek against May’s thigh.

“It’s been a hell of a year,” May exhales, her hand uncurling from the sheets to brush gently over the top of Bobbi’s head, where her blonde hair has dried in loose curls already.

The young woman smiles tenderly before catching May’s hand in hers and pressing a gentle kiss against her palm. Despite the persistent alarm from the two devices, May can’t quite make herself end the moment, and Bobbi seems to be in no hurry either. They breathe through the remaining thirty seconds together, and Morse knows exactly when the two minutes run out.

“Okay,” she says, pressing a last kiss against the inside of May’s thigh. “Let’s go.”

May is surprised by how quickly Bobbi moves as she scrambles off the bed, grabs the towel off the floor and wipes herself down one more time before tossing it to May. Sitting up, she catches the towel and drags it once over her thighs before snatching up her pants and underwear. Her phone tumbles out, and she checks the screen.

“There’s been an attack on the UN,” she says, glancing up to see Bobbi already in her underwear and pulling the borrowed pair of jeans up to her hips. _Too tight…but they’ll do._

“What? By who?” Bobbi asks, shocked.

May reads the message again to make sure that she read it right. “By SHIELD.”

Bobbi closes her eyes as she pulls on and fastens her bra. “ _Fucking HYDRA…”_ she grits out.

May drops her phone on the bed and yanks her underwear up to her hips, followed by her jeans, and then catches her sports bra as Bobbi tosses it to her.

“You probably don’t have to go out there too, Bobbi,” she says, pulling the garment over her head. “Coulson said he’d give you a few days to rest--”

“May,” Bobbi cuts her off without even turning from where she’s rummaging through the pile of borrowed clothes. The word is pronounced the same as _stop._

May pulls on her shirt again and shoves her feet into her shoes, stuffing her socks into her jeans pocket to put on later.

“I’ve gotta go round up the others,” she says, glancing over her shoulder as she moves toward the door.

“’Kay. See you out there,” Bobbi says, her face emerging from the neck of the blue Star Wars V-neck. May lets herself smile for all of half a second before squaring her shoulders and marching out the door.

* * *

 Of course it wasn’t really SHIELD behind the attack. Of course it was an old HYDRA assassin. Of course the attack was made possible by someone Bobbi already knows and has to get to before her HYDRA cover expires globally. Of course Hunter has to go too, not Trip who would have been perfectly adequate for this mission.

_Of course._

Not even an hour later, the three of them are airborne in a quinjet. May and Bobbi barely say a word to each other for the whole flight, but Bobbi and Hunter say enough for everyone.

“You look good,” May hears Bobbi break the ice at one point, and it sounds like tentativeness masquerading as politeness.

 _You really don’t know how to talk to him?_ she thinks from the pilot’s seat a few feet in front of them.

“Oh yeah? Cheers,” Hunter replies, and even May can tell he’s trying to pretend that the compliment doesn’t mean something to him. “And you know, with the blonde and everything …you don’t look too bad yourself.”

May listens, waiting for the barbed comeback.

“That’s nice of you to say. Because from what I hear you’ve been telling people that I’m a hell beast.”

It’s almost better than watching Bobbi fight with her fists. _Get out of that one, Hunter._

He stammers for a moment. “…I definitely didn’t use those words specifically…” he attempts, then steers the conversation back to safer ground. “So you vouched for me? Knew I was with SHIELD the whole time?”

“I’m honestly surprised you stayed this long.”

_Me too._

“Well you know, I’m here for now, keeping my options open,”

“You always do.”

_Yeah, he does._

“If we’re going to do this now, at least let me grab a beer first…” Hunter is whining rather than defending himself.

May briefly considers twisting the plane into an unnecessary bank just to forcibly bring the argument to an end, but pushes the thought aside quickly.

_You’re an adult. So are they. Let them get it out of their systems._

Her impatience with Hunter has nothing to do with who the merc once was to Bobbi, or at least that’s what May tells herself. It’s not as though she has any sort of claim to the younger Agent—they’d barely even seen each other since May left the field seven years ago. She’s never considered Bobbi as more than a friend with occasional benefits, though she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t value their relationship more than most others. No, her lack of patience with Bobbi’s ex has more to do with his relentlessly cocky attitude, his self-centered pettiness, his untrustworthiness …and the ICER round that he put in her back a few months ago didn’t help his case much.

May doesn’t get over betrayal easily. She doesn’t feel like that’s a flaw.

Somehow, the three of them make it to Okinawa without incident. And then they make their plan.

“Toshiro has the weapons from the UN attack,” May says, analyzing their plane’s scans of the building, “so we have two options. One:firefight. Take down as many as we can before they bring out heavy artillery.”

“And option two?” Hunter prompts. “Just to hear it.”

Bobbi is way ahead of her. “I use my HYDRA cover. A cover that could be blown.”

“That’s why I like option one,” May says, leveling Morse with her Senior Agent glare. _I’m not throwing another agent to the wolves in a single week._

“On the other hand,” Bobbi cuts back with unruffled gracefulness, “I know Toshiro. The best way to get him to leak intel is to get him bragging. I think it’s worth the risk.” She cocks an eyebrow at May and dares her to fight her on it. May says nothing, but something inside her swells with undeserved pride.

_Not a junior agent anymore._

“She can handle it,” Hunter says dryly, reminding them both of his presence. “Deception’s her forte.”

May can’t help the way her head swivels towards Bobbi’s, not even masking the _Canyoubelievethisguy?_ look on her face. She feels validated though when she sees her expression mirrored on the other woman’s face too.

“I mean that sincerely,” Hunter says quickly as both women redirect their glares at him, “not in a passive-aggressive way, as in it’s a good attribute for a spy…oh, bloody hell…” He seems to know he’s lost this one and trails off.

“You can go in,” May says, turning back to Bobbi, “but if anything’s off, we’re coming after you.”

Anticipating a search at the door, Morse hands off her gun to Hunter. “Don’t die out there, all right?” he says, and something in Bobbi’s expression softens just a little bit at those words before she moves out.

May and Hunter stay in the jet and run surveillance. They watch HYDRA Head of Security Agent Morse approach the house and present herself to be searched, then step out on the deck to wait for their target. When Toshiro approaches, Bobbi greets him in his language. They watch the Mockingbird sing her song and kiss their mark on the lips.

“Still like option two?” she asks Hunter with a smirk. It doesn’t make her uncomfortable, and Hunter tries to insist he doesn’t have a problem with the action on the screen either, but May can hear right through it.

Bobbi keeps talking, and Toshiro gives the intel up easily.

“This poor sap’s buying every word she says,” the Brit exhales exasperatedly after a few minutes of voyeurism.

“That’s what we want,” May reminds him, letting impatience edge into her voice.

“I just feel sorry for the guy, that’s all. Making marks feel special, that’s her thing…” He keeps talking, but May barely hears him.

_Making marks feel special, that’s her thing…I hesitated because of that same fear years ago._

_I should have remembered that last night._

May’s heard enough.

“You know I don’t like you, right?” she says coolly, the easiest shutdown she can think of. And sure enough, Hunter closes his mouth. They watch the screen together, listening to the connection of the splinter bombs and the Obelisk unravel, until Hunter’s tablet beeps.

“Toshiro’s people have an incoming message… _oh no_.” He throws down the tablet and bolts out the door.

May doesn’t need to see the screen to know what it must be. She just draws her gun and runs after him.

They do their jobs. They take out Mori and the bodyguards and save Bobbi’s life. And somehow, the former couple still manages to have a fight about it.

“This is just you peacocking!” Bobbi snaps at him as May secures the weapons from the fallen agents.

“He made you!” Hunter practically shouts back. “And he was going to kill you! And sweetheart, nobody uses the word ‘peacocking’!”

They barely even pause their fight to each put another bullet in a surprise!-not-dead Mori on the floor.

“Are you even listening to yourself? Oh wait, of course you are. You love the sound of your own voice!”

 _I’ll just be over here doing my job,_ May thinks, grabbing cell phones and tablets to add the HYDRA intel to their systems.

“Because it’s reasonable. One of us has to be!” Hunter snaps back.

“ _This_ is what makes you so aggravating to be with.”

“And you’re not with me anymore, lucky us.”

May’s had enough.

“ _Really_?” she lets herself say outloud, and both of the others seem surprised to see her still standing there. Bobbi has the decency to look embarrassed, but Hunter just rounds on May.

“I just saved her life twice, and this is the thanks I get?” he complains, like he expects May to actually be sympathetic. She just rolls her eyes and moves them on, pushing the guns into his hands as she walks past him towards the door.

“Toshiro said that they were going after Beckers. Recognize the name?”

“Julian Beckers,” Bobbi supplies, falling in step behind May. “Belgian foreign affairs officer.”

“The guy who’s been keeping the peace?” Hunter asks.

_Great. Another transcontinental flight with Loud and Louder._

“Call Coulson,” May orders. “We’re headed to Belgium.”

* * *

 They make it to an airfield in Bruges after an eight-hour flight over Siberia and steal a car for the last stretch into town. Outside the safehouse, they finalize their plan.

“Agents inside aren’t responding, which probably means the worst,” May says, replacing the ICER rounds in her gun with bullets.

“I’ll go in,” Hunter volunteers. “I’ll keep anyone inside busy while you ladies prepare a sneak-attack.”

“What makes you think any hostiles inside won’t shoot you on sight?” May asks pointedly, snapping the clip into her gun.

“I’m charming,” Hunter answers. “And I’ll bring beer.”

He goes in with his bags and a six-pack like he’s moving in while May and Morse get in position in the back. As Bobbi holsters her gun crouches beneath the windowsill, a memory surfaces of the last time she approached a safehouse with this agent in tow.

“Nice to see the catsuit again,” May can’t help saying. Bobbi knows she looks damn good.

Bobbi catches her eye, and May can tell she’s remembering the same thing.

“Nice to see the Cavalry again,” Bobbi smirks back, and May can’t even be mad at being called by that name. 

_This is the closest it's felt to the way things used to be._

They leap into the house in a spray of broken glass and engage Scarlotti’s team. May chases after the assassin and takes him down herself, ending the fight with only a scrape across her neck from the chain of his (ridiculously inefficient) weapon.

They’re too late to save any lives except each others’. But they make sure no HYDRA agents leave without handcuffs and concussions.

Unexpectedly, Colonel Talbot arrives with a brigade and assume custody of the HYDRA agents. May steps in front of Bobbi and Hunter and prepares to stand up for SHIELD again, but the man just announces that Beckers is in custody and offers her his hand in condolence for their losses. They stay to make the arrangements with the repatriation of the fallen agents’ remains, and Talbot agrees to oversee the transport. There’s enough red-tape to go through without SHIELD adding their own.

Night falls just before the last body bag is taken out to the truck. Thanks to the splinter bomb, there’s nothing left of Agent Walters to return to her family.

“Take a night in Belgium,” Coulson says when she calls him again from inside the empty house. “We’re arranging Ward’s transport to his brother as we speak.”

“Don’t give him one inch,” May warns him, letting him hear the venom in her tone.

“I know.”

* * *

With the safehouse compromised, the three of them first fly to Brussels and check into a hotel while the plane gets maintenance and fuel at the airfield. No one says much throughout the short flight or the following drive. In the hotel lobby, Hunter wordlessly takes the key to the second room and says nothing more than “Good night” before leaving May and Bobbi at the elevator in search of a drink.

“Moving out at eight tomorrow morning,” May calls after him as he heads down the hall. _Don’t get too drunk._

“Yes ma’am,” he calls back before the elevator doors close.

The room is nice, and ten stories up, which puts May’s mind at ease a bit. She memorizes the floor plan and exits before installing one of SHIELD’s portable deadlocks on the door.

“You showering?” she asks Bobbi when she’s done, who’s sitting on the floor and has barely made it out of her shoes.

The blonde shakes her head, shrugging off her jacket. “I’ll wait until morning. I already showered today.”

May thinks back to Bobbi’s bedroom that morning, to coffee and grilled cheeses and everything that came later. It already feels like a week ago.

She takes a towel to the bathroom and shuts the door without another word.

Bobbi is dressed down in leggings and a t-shirt and is leaning near the window looking out at the city when May walks out, the last of the ash and sweat rinsed from her body.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” Morse says as May crouches beside her duffle and digs out a clean shirt and underwear.

“Is it going to be like this every time you two are in the same room?” May replies, not looking at Morse as she stands, drops her towel, and pulls on the clean clothes.

Bobbi sighs and turns from the window, picking up one of her batons and twirling it idly around her hand. “I want to tell you no, but this is just the way Hunter and I are. One of us pushes, and the other’s always too proud to not push right back.”

“And this is how it was when you were married too?” May asks, rubbing her wet hair down with the towel before tossing it on the bathroom floor.

Morse doesn’t look at her as she replies. “It was certainly never boring.”

There’s two beds in the room, and May pulls back the duvet on one, reaching for her phone and her gun.

“We should probably plan to be in the air by ten tomorrow morning,” she says, setting an alarm and plugging her phone into its charger.

“Time for Belgian coffee before we check out?” Morse asks hopefully, picking up her other baton and tucking them beneath the pillow of the other bed while May slips her gun under hers.

“Only if you wake up early enough,” May says, thinking of how long Bobbi slept the night before.

Morse tosses her a smile as she slips beneath the covers and starts twisting her hair into a bun on top of her head. “Coffee is a good motivator—for me anyway,” she says with a wink, securing the bun with an elastic off her wrist.

May reaches over and flicks off the lamp, laying down and adjusting the gun beneath her pillow.

“Where did you meet the Colonel before?” Morse’s curious voice carries through the darkness. May hears her shifting around, trying to get comfortable.

“He’s been a pain in our asses since the day SHIELD fell. I first met him when we kidnapped him a few months ago.”

“So, what you’re saying is, today was huge progress.”

“Guess so,” May says tiredly. It feels like the smallest of victories.

A few quiet moments pass. May knows she should be able to sleep easily—she’s been awake nearly 48 hours running on 5 hours of sleep—but she feels the frustrating anxiousness that lingers after every op, the same stress magnified a hundred times, slowly receding and leaving raw nerves in its wake.

_Your team is still alive._

_Walters and her team aren’t._

She sighs heavily. She might not sleep tonight at all.

“Can I come over there?” Bobbi’s whisper is soft enough that May knows she could pretend she didn’t hear.

But she doesn’t want to.

“Please,” she whispers back.

She hears Bobbi push back her covers and moves over as they rearrange their weapons beneath the pillows and curl up beside each other. Bobbi turns toward her but doesn’t reach for her, and that’s all right.

“I knew Walters, you know,” May says quietly, because she wants Bobbi to understand. “She was in my cadet class at the Academy.”

Bobbi breathes out a soft sigh. “God, Mel, I’m sorry,” she whispers, and May feels her hand brush gently over her arm.

“She's not the first classmate I've lost,” she continues, “but…She was a great Agent. HYDRA wouldn’t have taken her so easily if she hadn’t been ambushed thanks to Beckers. She deserved better than that. Better than betrayal by someone she should have been able to trust.”

Bobbi is suddenly reaching for her and wrapping May in her arms, pulling her against her chest. “I am so, so sorry, Mel,” the younger woman breathes out again, brushing her lips over May’s hair, and May is surprised to hear from the sound of her voice that, for some reason, Bobbi's trying not to cry. She feels the tremors beneath Bobbi’s skin and wraps an arm around her middle, pressing in and matching the strength of the girl’s embrace.

She doesn’t know what Bobbi’s thinking about, but she can guess. It would be horrible to have to give months of her life pretending to back HYDRA, to have to make the calls that Bobbi did. She wonders if there are any agents that would say the same about Bobbi as May just said about Beckers.

“It’s over, Bobbi, it’s over,” she whispers against the young woman’s chest, dragging her hand gently up and down her back. She wouldn’t be surprised if it takes a lot longer for Bobbi to get over that mission.

Too bad that, in this life, they can never take their time.

* * *

They haven’t even made it out of bed the next morning before they get the next call.

May opens her eyes to pre-dawn gray light filling the room and the insistent buzzing of her phone on the nightstand. Morse detangles her body from May's and gropes for the phone, managing to get it off the charger without knocking over the lamp. She looks at the caller ID and cringes as she hands the phone to May, who answers the call with a sinking feeling in her chest.

“Coulson?” she says, preparing herself for the worst.

“Ward escaped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer than the last few chapters, I know. Didn't think you all would mind.
> 
> I'm thinking there will be one more chapter from Bobbi's POV, and that will be the last one in this work. Subsequent chapters will be added to the series.


End file.
